


A Blip in Destiny

by TheConsultingDemon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Child Abuse, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Kidlock, M/M, Teenlock, Texting, abusive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:17:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheConsultingDemon/pseuds/TheConsultingDemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh my..umm. Well this is my first (published) fic, and its going to be rather long..so yeah.<br/>the base idea for this came from one of my personal favorites; http://archiveofourown.org/works/601000/chapters/1083777<br/>and whether you love or hate what i wrote, i recommend you read that because it's just absolutely adorable.<br/>any ways, since this is going to be long, you can probably expect smut in (much) later chapters.<br/>I hope you like it :3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter John Watson

John, _Sherlock_

**Friday, March 15th**

Somewhere, in the midst of London, a small thin boy with curly black hair sat on his bed, wrapped in a dark blanket. He stared with a blank expression, clenching his teeth trying not to cry at the awful words being thrown around outside his door. Honestly he should be used to the shouting, he was in a way. But this time was different. This time he had caused the fight. He had done wrong and now his parents were at each other’s throats for it. What if this was it? What if this was the fight that finally broke them, and it’d be his doing.

Suddenly, a patch on his ceiling lit up with a buzz of his phone. He slinked his arm out from the safety of his blanket and picked it up.

 

(Fri. 8:46pm)

Hey can I come over?

 

(Fri. 8:46pm)

_No._

 

He pelted the phone back onto the mattress.

 

(Fri. 8:48pm)

What do you mean no? Why not?

 

(Fri. 8:49pm)

_I mean I have my own problems at the moment, Greg. Now isn’t a good time._

(Fri. 8:50pm)

Oh sorry this isnt Greg. Must have the wrong number.

 

(Fri. 8:53pm)

_Are you suggesting I have the wrong number or that you were too clumsy to enter the correct one?_

(Fri. 8:56pm)

Im saying I typed in a number wrong. Geez. Are you always such a prat?

 

(Fri. 8:58pm)

_It almost saddens me that you think your opinions mean anything to me._

(Fri. 9:00pm)

You must be a kick at work.

 

The boy stopped and looked down at his bruise-covered body. He was a kick alright.

 

(Fri. 9:06pm)

_Student._

(Fri. 9:09pm)

What?

 

(Fri. 9:09pm)

_I’m a student._

(Fri. 9:11pm)

College?

 

(Fri. 9:12pm)

_Middle school._

(Fri. 9:14pm)

Oh.

 

(Fri. 9:16pm)

_What?_

(Fri. 9:19pm)

Nothing I just thought you were older

(Fri. 9:21pm)

I’m in middle school too

 

(Fri. 9:23pm)

_Not surprising._

(Fri. 9:24pm)

Whats the supposed to mean?

 

(Fri. 9:30pm)

_It means that you, frankly, have awful grammar and serve only as a waste of my time._

(Fri.  9:34pm)

Bit of a snappy retort.

(Fri. 9:48pm)

You said you had a problem. What is it?

 

(Fri. 9:50pm)

_None of your business._

(Fri. 9:51pm)

Come on tell me. I’m just a mystery man. You’ve got nothing to lose.

 

(Fri. 9:53pm)

Whats wrong?

 

(Fri. 10:03pm)

_Family._

 

(Fri. 10:04pm)

Whats wrong with your family?

 

(Fri. 10:04pm)

_What isn’t wrong with my family?_

(Fri. 10:06pm)

Oh

(Fri.  10:08pm)

Well if it makes you feel better, my family is pretty screwed up too.

 

(Fri. 10:11pm)

_Why would that make me feel better?_

(Fri. 10:15pm)

The misery of the guy that’s been bugging you for 2 hours?

 

That’s when it finally hit him that he had been mindlessly texting a boy for two hours without even knowing so much as his name. He then realized he was no longer engulfed by his blanket, instead it was draped over his, now, crossed legs. Not only that, but the shouting had ceased. How had he not noticed? What a pleasant distraction the conversation turned out to be. He placed the phone on his bed and wondered off to the long cluttered table at the end of his room, where he spent the night working.

 

 (Sat. 1:03pm)

So I had the weirdest dream last night.

 

(Sat. 1:04pm)

_Who is this?_

(Sat. 1:04pm)

Your mystery man

(Sat.. 1:09pm)

You know, I never got your name last night.

 

(Sat. 1:10pm)

_Let’s keep it that way._

(Sat. 1:11pm)

Someones grumpy.

 

(Sat. 1:13pm)

_I do believe there is an apostrophe in there._

(Sat. 1:13pm)

Huh?

 

(Sat. 1:16pm)

_You said “someones” whereas you meant “someone’s”. “Someones “ is hardly a word. “Someone’s” would be the conversion of “someone is”. This isn’t something I haven’t noticed before. You seem to have a problem with apostrophes, they are important, as I hope you now know, otherwise you’re more stupid than I give you credit for. If you do insist on sending me nonsense messages, the least you could do is clean up your grammar._

(Sat. 1:18pm)

Oh, right, thanks.

 

(Sat. 1:22pm)

_..Thanks? You aren’t mad that I corrected your grammar, or called you stupid?_

(Sat. 1:23pm)

Mad? No. Just a bit embarrassed.

 

(Sat. 1:25pm)

_Embarrassed? Why?_

(Sat. 1:26pm)

Well I just made a simple grammar mistake to a genius.

 

(Sat. 1:29pm)

_..You think I’m a genius? How?_

(Sat. 1:30pm)

You just give off a “everyone is stupid but me” vibe.

 

(Sat. 1:30pm

_I give off a vibe via text?_

(Sat. 1:30pm)

Yeah

 

(Sat. 1:32pm)

_Interesting._

(Sat. 1:33pm)

_Sherlock._

 (Sat. 1:34pm)

Excuse me?

 

(Sat. 1:35pm)

_You asked my name. I’m giving it to you._

(Sat. 1:37pm)

Your name’s Sherlock.

 

(Sat. 1:37pm)

_Thank you, I had no idea._

(Sat. 1:37pm)

Okay smart arse. It’s just..unusual.

 

(Sat. 1:38pm)

_Wonderful, yet another piece of me I had yet to discover. Thank you, ever so much._

(Sat. 1:40pm)

You really are a prick.

 

(Sat. 1:44pm)

_Then leave._

(Sat. 1:46pm)

Give me your name and tell me to leave? Maybe you aren’t too wise.

(Sat. 1:49pm)

I’m John, by the way.

 

(Sat. 1:50pm)

_Dull._

(Sat. 1:51pm)

Problem with my name?

 

With that, Sherlock opened the options screen on his phone, add to contacts, and entered John’s name.

 

(Sat. 1:52pm)

 _It_ is _one of the most common names in the world._

(Sat. 1:53pm)

And I bet you think you’re so special with your “unique” name.

 

(Sat. 1:54pm)

_My name isn’t what separates me from the rest of this pathetic race._

(Sat. 1:55pm)

Wow. Is that what you do for fun? Insult your own race?

 

(Sat. 1:55pm)

_I don’t insult. I observe, describe and deduce._

(Sat. 1:56pm)

Hah! So you really are “odd”

 

(Sat. 1:58pm)

_Childish humor._

_(Sat. 12:00pm)_

So what do you do for fun?

 

(Sat. 12:01pm)

_Fun?_

(Sat. 12:02pm)

Yes, what are you doing this fine Saturday afternoon?

 

Sherlock paused for a moment. He wasn’t doing anything. He hadn’t been for an hour now. He was sitting at his table like he had all night. But he wasn’t looking down his microscope, or extracting some liquid or combining something to make his own personal solution. He was sitting on his stool texting a boy, completely forgetting his work, like some obsessed teenage girl.

 

(Sat. 12:10pm)

_Actually, I’m busy._

(Sat. 12:10pm)

Busy? With what?

 

(Sat. 12:11pm)

_Work._

(Sat. 12:12pm)

I thought you were in middle school.

 

(Sat. 12:13pm)

Oh don’t tell me you’re doing homework on the weekend. On a Saturday..

 

(Sat. 12:15pm)

_Well I am home, and I am working._

(Sat. 12:15pm)

Don’t give me that.

 

(Sat. 12:18pm)

_I’m busy._

(Sat. 12:19pm)

Fine, fine.

 

Sherlock set his phone down and stared at it for a minute, half expecting another text to pop up and start a new conversation to distract him. Of course, none came. With a sigh of disappointment mixed with relief, he returned to his microscope and pulled a small cloth under it.

By the time 8 rolled around, Sherlock had far completed what he was working on the night before, and was now on his laptop nosing around some police reports. His silent phone sat beside him, for a moment he stared at it, trying to predict when it would buzz. Then he looked at the clock and rolled his eyes seconds before his door opened softly.

“Mummy says it’s time for dinner.”

“You know my response.”               

“And you know hers.”  
“’I’m not hungry’ ‘I didn’t ask if you were hungry.’” Sherlock recited.

“Glad you know the routine.” The older, more plump boy at the door smirked, eyes falling to the phone laying on the desk. “Who’ve you been talking to?”

Sherlock’s eyes darted at the phone, in a bit of a panic, but calmly returned them to the screen of his laptop.

“No one.” He said simply.

“Then why is your phone out?”

“Emergencies?” Sherlock shrugged, eyes glued to the screen.

The boy smirked again, he knew Sherlock. And he definitely knew he wouldn't have a phone out while on his laptop simply for 'emergencies'.

“Are you coming to dinner?”

“Busy.” 

“Mummy won’t like that.”

Sherlock let out a very audible, irritated sigh. “Tell her I’ll eat later.”

“Will you?”

“Of course not.” He sneered.

The older boy pushed off the doorframe lightly and walked back down the hall.

“Don’t tell her I said that!” Sherlock shouted after him. “Mycroft!”

“Yes, brother-dear.”  The voice chimed back down the hall. Sherlock believed it, not that he trusted his brother, but because he knew that if he didn’t go in and eat his food afterwards, then his brother would. And if he told mummy that he wasn’t eating at all then she would either force it down Sherlock’s throat or not bother making him any at all. Either way, it was less for Mycroft.

At 11pm, on the dot, Sherlock’s door opened smoothly again. In the door frame stood a tall, slender woman with long silky black hair and pale blue eyes dressed in a medium blue night gown. She walked carefully over to the small boy, who was passed out in front of his computer. He had been trying to train his body to stay up for long periods of time, but alas, his young body would crash without fail.

She placed a plate next to him which held a sandwich, she knew he wasn’t going to leave his room to see the family and eat. But she had to get something in the boy.

A light on the desk shone and she froze, thinking Sherlock would wake. Gladly, he didn’t. She peaked over his shoulder and looked at the phone that read; John (Sat. 11:02pm). She smiled. She hadn’t heard of John before.  He must be new. It made her happy that someone was talking to Sherlock at this time of night, without it being Greg, begging for answers on homework, as she knew he did.

About an hour later, Sherlock woke with a grunt. Mostly from disappointment that he had fallen asleep, although, what he had been doing was proving to be rather boring.

He looked at the clock; 11:52pm. The last time he saw the time it was 9:48pm. Just a little over two hours, not too bad. Then he noticed the sandwich beside him. He could practically hear his mother; “Please dear, eat something.”

Although he wouldn’t admit it, he was practically starving. He hadn’t eaten in three days. He took the sandwich and took a rather more than necessary large bite. His next was stolen away from him when his phone lit up the room around him.

 

New message- John (4) 11:53pm

 

(Sat. 9:52pm)

Sherlock? Are you there?

(Sat. 10:16pm)

Finish those errands?

(Sat. 11:00pm)

I just realized I never told you my dream.

(Sat. 11:53pm)

I’m assuming you’ve finished that work by now and are just ignoring me. I don’t blame you, I’m just some random guy who won’t leave you alone.

 

(Sat. 11:54pm)

_Hello, John._

(Sat. 11:56pm)

Oh..hi.

 

(Sat. 11:56pm)

_You’ve been trying to reach me all night and all you have to say is “hi”?_

(Sat. 11:57pm)

Yeah I know, I’m such a clingy girlfriend.

(Sat. 11:59pm)

I didn’t mean it like that, it was a joke. I’m not your girlfriend.

 

(Sun. 12:02am)

_I know, John._

(Sun. 12:02am)

Okay.

 

(Sun. 12:03am)

_Was there something you wanted to tell me?_

(Sun. 12:04am)

Umm..not really.

 

(Sun. 12:05am)

_What about your dream?_

(Sun. 12:07am)

You care about my dream?

 

(Sun. 12:07am)

_You brought it up._

(Sun. 12:10am)

Oh, well, it was like, my sister was this dragon, that came into my room and started breaking my stuff. Then this elf came in shouting “You have to slay the dragon!” So I turned my hand up to her and shouted “Harry, don’t eat the watermelon!” then she squashed the elf and flew away.

 

(Sun. 12:11am)

_Lay off the grapes before bed._

(Sun. 12:12am)

Told you it was weird

(Sun. 12:13am)

Wait how did you know I had grapes?

 

(Sun. 12:14am)

_Grapes are a fruit that, if eaten shortly before sleeping, can cause strange dreams._

(Sun. 12:16am)

Huh, did not know that.

 

(Sun. 12:16am)

_Yes, well, you know the saying “You learn something new every day.”_

(Sun. 12:16am)

Indeed.

(Sun. 12:17am)

Do you ever have dreams?

 

(Sun. 12:18am)

_No._

(Sun. 12:18am)

Everyone has dreams.

 

(Sun. 12:19am)

_Dreaming requires sleeping._

(Sun. 12:21am)

You don’t sleep?

 

(Sun. 12:22am)

_I try not to; it only serves as a waste of my already limited time for working._

(Sun. 12:24am)

Sleep is a waste of time

 

(Sun. 12:24am)

_Your ability to reiterate never ceases to amaze me._

(Sun. 12:15am)

So you just…don’t sleep? Like a vampire?

 

(Sun. 12:26am)

_Honestly John, I don’t think you could have thought of a more ridiculous comparison._

(Sun. 12:26am)

Let me guess, you don’t eat either.

 

Sherlock paused and looked at his now empty plate, decorated with only a few crumbs.

 

(Sun. 12:28am)

_I eat when necessary._

 

(Sun. 12:29am)

Eating is always necessary.

 

(Sun. 12:30am)

_It only serves at another distraction from my work and a tedious waste of time._

(Sun. 12:31am)

What is so important that eating and sleeping are “a waste of time”?

 

Sherlock sneered at his screen. He was getting tired of repeating himself.

 

(Sun. 12:31am)

_Work._

(Sun. 12:32am)

I got that, but what work could possibly leave eating and sleeping as “unnecessary”?

 

(Sun. 12:33am)

_My work._

(Sun. 12:35am)

Sherlock

 

(Sun. 12:35am)

_John._

(Sun. 12:38am)

Its past midnight. Go to bed. You need sleep

 

(Sun. 12:39am)

_I was just asleep._

(Sun. 12:39am)

I thought you said you didn’t sleep

 

(Sun. 12:40am)

_It wasn’t voluntary._

(Sun. 12:42am)

Well, _I_ , a normal boy, am going to bed. Because I’m tired, like a normal person at 12:40am

 

(Sun. 12:44am)

_What is “normal”, really?_

(Sun. 12:47am)

Don’t know, why don’t you do that next in your “work”?

 

(Sun. 12: 47am)

Go to bed.

 

(Sun. 12:49am)

_It’s a physiological question John, it can’t really be answered._

(Sun. 12:53am)

Goodnight, Sherlock.

 

Sherlock found himself doing as told, in bed, under his thick covers and head buried in his feathered pillow. It was all very comforting and relaxing, but sleep would simply repel him away.

 

(Sun. 12:55am)

_Goodnight, John._

He lie in bed for many hours, staring at the wall, trying to break the barrier that had kept him awake for so many nights.

 “Whatever it is you’re doing, it isn’t important. Mummy has made breakfast-..” the boy at the door’s eyes crossed the cluttered table that seemed to contain everything but the presence of his younger brother. His eyes then lead to the other side , where he found the younger boy, in bed, under the covers, asleep. “Oh..” he then noticed the phone laying on his fingertips. Out of curiosity, and a bit of concern, he took the phone and exited the room.

Only a short time later, the older boy returned with a plate with a simple slice of buttered toast and scrambled eggs, accompanied with a glass of orange juice. The plate and glass were sat on the night stand beside the bed carefully not to wake the boy.

After stopping to make sure Sherlock was indeed still asleep, he left with another swift turn.

About half an hour later, Sherlock woke with a light groan. Immediately, he got up and walked over to his desk, opened his laptop and started at the cluttered table before finally deciding what he was going to do.

“Who’s John?” An all-knowing coo came from his doorway.

Sherlock turned to look beside him then behind him to his bed, “You took my phone?”

“I observed it.”

“You _stole_ it.”

“Who, is John?”

“He’s nobody, give me my phone.”

“You seem to be fairly close to this ‘nobody’.”

“I don’t even know who he is, Mycroft. He texted the wrong number and now he won’t leave me alone.”

“You don’t seem to want him to.”

“Who I choose to converse with is none of your business.”

“…Just be careful, Sherlock.” Mycroft walked slowly towards his younger brother and held out his phone. Sherlock said nothing, only stared him dead in the eye when he took back his phone, which lit up immediately and put a smirk on Mycroft’s face before walking away.

 

New message- John 7:30am

 

(Sun. 7:30am)

Morning.

 

(Sun. 7:33am)

_Congratulations, you’ve now gained the ability to tell time._

(Sun. 1:35am)

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

 

(Sun. 7:38am)

_Why do you insist on talking to me?_

(Sun. 1:39am)

Because you’re interesting.

 

(Sun. 7:42am)

_You think I’m interesting?_

(Sun. 7:42am)

Now who’s repeating who?

(Sun. 7:43am)

Of course I think you’re interesting, you’re the most interesting guy I’ve met.

 

(Sun. 7:45am)

_We haven’t met._

(Sun. 7:45am)

We might as well have.

Sherlock tossed his phone onto his bed and continued his work. He knew Mycroft wanted him to talk to John, so he wasn’t going to.

Time began to creep dangerously close to 10. At that time, Mycroft stood in the bedroom doorway in a dress shirt, pants and shoes.

“It’s that time of the week again.”

“I’m not going.”

“Father won’t like that...”

Sherlock froze stiff on his stool. He quickly stood up and made a sharp turn to his dresser.

Pity grew on Mycroft’s face, he hadn’t meant it as a threat, just a warning. He wanted to tell his brother that he would talk and try to convince their father to not make him go. But he knew that would only make him angry, and Sherlock couldn’t stay home alone, so he would have to stay himself. Which he was all for, he saw church as a pointless waste of time, the same as Sherlock. But if they had both stayed it would only upset Mummy.

Sherlock lay out his clothes and uncovered his bruise covered chest. Becoming irritated with the look of pity so plainly displayed on Mycroft’s face, he shooed him off with a few words.

“I’ll be ready.”

Mycroft gave a simple nod and turned down the hall.

 

(Sun. 9:54am)

Yet another reason to hate Sunday..

 

(Sun. 9:55am)

_I’m not a mind reader, nor am I with you, John; I don’t know what you are referring to. I don’t have time for this; I have to get ready to be in an old building full of delusional people._

(Sun. 9:55am)

Whoa, what?

 

(Sun. 9:56am)

_Church._

(Sun. 9:58am)

Oh, hey I’m going to church too.

 

(Sun. 9:59am)

_It’s not unusual, John, it is 10am on a Sunday._

(Sun. 10:00am)

So by your description, I take it you aren’t religious?

 

(Sun. 10:002am)

_Not in the slightest._

By now, Sherlock was out the door and climbing into a van with the rest of his family. He buckled in and looked back at the screen of his phone and flipped it up to start typing.

“Yes.” He said aloud when Mycroft turned to him.

“What was that dear?” Their mother turned her head to peer over the car seat.

“Nothing of importance, it was directed wards Mycroft.” He said in a bit more of a softer voice than usual.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you boys do it, he didn’t even ask anything.”

“He’s very predictable...” Sherlock returned his attention to his phone and began typing after a few short moments.

 

 (Sun.10:02am)

Then why do you go?

 

(Sun. 10:02am)

_Mother._

(Sun. 10:03am)

Me too, I don’t really care for church.

 

(Sun. 10:03am)

_Your mother is religious?_

(Sun. 10:04am)

Something like that.

 

After only a few minutes of driving, they arrived at the church that already had enough people in it. Too many for Sherlock’s comfort. The four of them took a seat near the back, where Sherlock sat on the end next to his father. A moment later the doors opened again and a broad woman with short brown, curly hair walked in with a short blonde boy. She obviously wasn’t the boy’s mother, not enough chemistry or resemblance. The woman threw up and hand and had a small chat with the boy before running to sit with Sherlock’s mother.

“Oh, Mrs. Holmes is here! Why don’t you go sit with the Holmes’ boy, John?”

“Why?”

“Because maybe he’ll be your friend.”

“I have friends.”

“That boy you’re always texting doesn’t count.”

“I have other friends! ....What do you mean he doesn’t count?”

“You don’t _know_ him.”  She didn’t give John a chance to respond as she dashed off to sit next to the other woman.

“Hi.” John gave a charming smile to the other boy who hardly acknowledged him through the corner of his eye. John cleared his throat and tried again as he sat down. “What’s your name?”

“None of your concern..” Sherlock replied in his dark voice without even so much as turning to the other boy.

John didn’t bother trying to revive a conversation; he didn’t really care to talk to the boy anyways. He had little interest in befriending someone who wouldn’t even tell him his name.

After a long time of the preacher babbling nonsense he finally announced for prayer, and all at once, the room lowered their heads. Except for Sherlock who rolled his eyes and turned away until he met his father’s glare which made him straighten back to the front and lower his head. He didn’t close his eyes nor pay attention to whatever it was the preacher was saying. He just stared at his phone and stroked the screen with his thumb. He didn’t want to be there, to him it had to be the most ridiculous place to be. Worshiping some false being. There was no proof of his existence, no evidence, just a theory with no back up. That’s what irritated him the most about the whole situation, there was no evidence of anything, yet so many people put so much blind faith into it. It was simply just another waste of time to Sherlock, all he had wished to do was sit at home and work on his experiments and test some theories (which had legitimate and reliable reasoning’s behind them) without being interrupted. He would be at peace, that’s all he wanted. But for some reason he could shake the longing for something else, something so simple and ordinary. Staring at the dark screen of his phone he couldn't help but want to do the simple task of laying on his bed and text his newly found interest. John. He couldn’t quite place it, but everything around him seemed to stop whenever they would talk. His work would dissolve into another world, the shouting down his hall would dwindle to a hum, time would fly by, and before he knew it, 2 hours would have passed.

Sherlock found himself lost in a soft smile before realizing the people around him were beginning to raise their heads with an in-unison chime of “Amen.”

A few more words were uttered by the preacher and practically all at once, the people stood.

The woman who sat next to Sherlock’s mother walked over quickly to collect the boy.

“Say goodbye.” She smiled.

“Goodbye.” The boy gave another charming smile that Sherlock saw through easily.

Sherlock’s mother placed her hand on his shoulder, which was basically a more subtle shove to make him speak.

“Indeed.” Sherlock said in his usual disdainful tone.

His mother smiled nervously and gently pushed him in the direction of the door. They all climbed into the van once more and headed home. Not a moment after they hit the road Sherlock’s phone buzzed.

 

(Sun. 12:08pm)

So how was church?

                         

(Sun. 12:08pm)

_Unbelievably dull. And you?_

(Sun. 12:09pm)

Hellish. Just got out.

 

Sherlock couldn’t help but grin at the irony in John’s comment, which was obviously on purpose.

 

(Sun. 12:11am)

Its unbelievable how many people actually believe in that crap.

 

(Sun. 12:12am)

_At least you have some sense, John. I’m glad you also see it that way._

(Sun. 12:12am)

Im glad you aren’t a religious nut either

 

Sherlock started his response when he noticed Mycroft watching him. He quietly wished they would get home faster to avoid the conversation he knew was about to happen.

“Who are you talking to, Sherlock?” Mycroft finally asked, smiling a bit when Sherlock cringed.

“No one.”

“Oh? You seem to be on that phone a lot recently.”

“You know, that’s true, I’ve heard that phone the whole way to church and back.” Their mother interrupted. “Did you make a friend?” she added excitedly.

“I don’t have _friends_.” He hissed, hoping to end the conversation.

“It’s okay to associate with people, you know.”

“They aren’t worth my time.”

“Well whoever you’ve been talking to seems to worth plenty of your time.” Mycroft retorted, picking the original conversation up again.

“Who I choose to spend my time with is none of your concern.”

“So they _are_ worth your time.”

“John is more worth my time than you will ever be.”

Mycroft smirked and Sherlock immediately bit his tongue.

“John?”

“Yes, a very common male name.”

“And the name of the boy you’ve been texting?”

“Yes, what of it?”

“Mycroft, leave your brother alone.” Their mother chimed in as peacefully as she could.

“I’m only asking. Why are you getting so defensive?” Mycroft continued, ignoring his mother.

“Why do you have to stick your big nose in my business?”

“Sherlock don’t encourage him..” she whined.

“Why do you insist on keep so many secrets from me?”

“Why do _you_ insist on knowing everything about me when it’s _obviously_ none of your business!?”

Suddenly the car came to a screeching halt on the side of the road. Everyone was silent. Sherlock became stiff in his seat and eyes grew wide with fear. Mycroft shot a glance to Sherlock. He hadn’t meant for their father to get angry, he only wanted to pester Sherlock until he gave up some information. He watched as Sherlock tried to seep down his seat and disappear, but he couldn’t move. No one said a word and the silence grew. Mycroft finally noticed Sherlock’s eyes locked onto the rearview mirror hanging overhead. He lead his eye to the mirror to see their father’s eyes glaring down at Sherlock.

“I’m sorry father, we won’t speak again, I didn’t mean to make a fuss. I’m sorry. We’ll be quiet. I promise. I’m sorry.” Mycroft apologized, practically begging. Their father’s eyes lowered back onto the road and the drove off the short ways left to home. Sherlock’s eyes slowly drifted down from the mirror and to the windshield, he was taking deep repetitive breathes, still wide-eyed. Their father didn’t have to say a single word to strike fear in the young boy, all of them in fact. Mycroft wasn’t necessarily scared of him, but scared for Sherlock. He made a mental note to not leave Sherlock alone when they arrived home so their father couldn’t harm him.

 

“Mycroft leave me alone. You aren’t doing this.” Sherlock rushed to his room the second they were inside.

“What? Am I not allowed to spend time with my little brother?” Mycroft kept a close step behind.

“No. you aren’t.” Sherlock tried to close his door on his brother but Mycroft, of course, stopped it.

“Sherlock…”

“Mycroft.”

“Can’t we just talk?”

“Fine. How’s your diet?” Sherlock complied.

“It’s fine and you know that.”  
“Good. Are we done?” Sherlock gave forced smile that showed just how little he cared.

“No.” Mycroft pushed past his brother and welcomed himself into the room.

“What do you want?”

“You don’t have to speak to me, but I’m not leaving.” He took a seat on the bed, making sure he wouldn’t be in the way.

“You don’t have to do this…” Sherlock closed his door and walked over to his table, trying not to acknowledge Mycroft watching him.

Mycroft didn’t respond, only sat and observed every move Sherlock made.

“If you think he’ll stop just because you’re in here, you’re wrong.”

Again Mycroft didn’t speak. He sat and watched the door for even the smallest creek.

 

(Sun. 12:15pm)

_John, don’t talk to me for the rest of the day, my brother won’t leave me alone._

Sherlock didn’t want john texting him with Mycroft in the room, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

 

11:00pm

 

“Sherlock?”

“...What?” Sherlock answered with a bit of delay. He had forgotten Mycroft was in his room, he had to push it out of his mind so he could work.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Good for you.”

Mycroft stood and quietly walked out the door, and down to his own room.

Sherlock glanced over to his phone as if it would make it light up with John’s name. Of course it didn’t. Instead he sat staring at it think about how mad his father was. How he would react to his sudden outburst in a row with Mycroft.  Before he knew it, it was half past midnight and his door was creeping open.

“F-father?” his voice caught in his throat when the tall man with short brown hair and a scowl entered.

“And you continue to speak..” his dark, low voice made Sherlock catch his own again.

“I-I didn’t-…I won’t-”

“Shut up already.” His father whipped off his leather belt and folded it over.

“Yes f-“

“I said: **_shut up_**!” He swiftly kicked over the stool his son was sitting on, leaving Sherlock on the floor, holding his head from where it hit the ground. Sherlock shifted his arms to cover his face the moment he saw his father lift his hand and lash down with his belt. Sherlock bit onto his arm to keep himself from yelping in pain from each repetitive blow, as he knew if he made a noise it would only make matters worse. An unexpected kick pierced into the boy’s side, knocking him on his back. Almost immediately a sharp blow from the thick leather belt seared down across his neck and chest. Sherlock let out loud cry that he quickly shut off by clenching his teeth and eyes shut. He stayed in his tense position as he listened to his father drag his belt out of the room and close the door harshly. The thin boy lying on the floor raised his hands to his face and let it turn red and tears fall. He lifted his hands slightly to cover his eyes as he turned to his side and shifted more into the fetal position. He lie on the floor, curled up, crying in pain silently in his own hands.

 

Monday morning, 7am on the dot, the alarm next to Sherlock’s bed started beeping. Completely pointless. He knew full well what time it was.  Nevertheless, he stretched out his arm and taped to top of the clock and rose from his three hour rest he had dazed off into.

He lifted himself from the bed and prepared himself for the day from brushing his teeth to lacing his scarf over his neck. He pulled on his coat as he walked down the still hall to the front door. His father had already gone to work and the house quiet. Peaceful, almost.

Sherlock reached into the pocket of a coat hanging by the door and pulled out Mycroft’s wallet. He opened the door but was momentarily stopped by his mother.

“Sherlock, wa- just wait, I’ll take you.” She rushed to dry off the plate she had in hand.

“It’s fine Mummy, I’ll walk.”

“Oh-…be careful..”

“Always.” He smiled and carried himself out the door.

“Mycroft! Hurry up! Watch after your brother!” She called up the hall.

 

Sherlock continued down the sidewalk and pulled out his phone, which buzzed almost instantly in his hand.

 

(Mon. 7:18am)

What does your brother have to do with anything?

 

Right to the chase then.

 

(Mon. 7:18am)

_He has this hobby of intruding in on my business and destroying it._

(Mon. 7:21am)

So I’m your “business” then?

 

(Mon. 7:21am)

_You know what I mean._

(Mon. 7:22am)

I don’t think _you_ know what you mean.

 

Sherlock stared at his screen for a moment. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

 

(Mon. 7:23am)

_What are you implying?_

 

John didn’t respond, and Sherlock made it to his first class a bit disappointed by it. The teacher reviewed what they had done last week, and then, to everyone’s surprise, (except Sherlock, of course who knew what was going to happen the moment he walked in) she announced a pop quiz and began handing out papers. The class groaned and Sherlock rolled his eyes at how dull and obvious it was. He breezed through the quiz, ignoring the others around him making whatever ‘subtle’ noise they could think of to get his attention for help. When class ended, Sherlock was followed out by one the larger kids in the class.

“Oi! Hold up!” He called, and was of course, ignored by Sherlock who continued on to his next class.

“Oi!” he called again, rushing in front of the much notably shorter boy and cutting him off. “I said; hold up.”

Sherlock only looked up in recognition. After a few moments of silence, a few more boys gathered around the larger boy’s side.

“Did you want me to congratulate you?” Sherlock finally replied, in his usual disdainful voice.

The other boy gave a grimace but stayed on his original task.

“Didn’t you hear me in class?”

“If you’re referring to those insufferable noises you were making in a pathetic attempt for my attention; then yes, I heard you.”

The other boy gave another vicious sneer before gritting his teeth and trying another question.

“If you knew what it was, then why did you ignore it?”

“Well it’s hardly my fault you were too ignorant and numb-skulled to pay any attention.”

“You…” The boy snarled and lifted Sherlock by his collar and flung him across the yard, where he, thankfully, landed on the ground and not the sidewalk. Normally, he would’ve been fine. A few bad bruises and walk away. But with the beating he had the night before; he couldn’t seem to force himself up. Instead, he did the only thing his body would let him, which was roll onto his back and watch the lager boy march up to him. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly preparing himself for the punch, kick or whatever he was about to receive but instead, he heard one of the teachers call out from behind.

“Office. Now.” He grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him along, looking back at Sherlock for a brief moment. Sherlock closed his eyes again and sighed lightly. When he opened his eyes once more, he saw a hand stretched out in front of him. He turned his head, ignoring the offer but felt his own hand in the grasp of another, pulling up his body. When he was sat up he looked up the body standing in front of him, to see the same blonde boy he met at church.

“Oh. You.” 

“Oh, no, you’re welcome."

“I didn’t ask for help.” He tried to push himself off the ground, but to his own embarrassment, was too weak to do so.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need it.” The boy hooked one arm under Sherlock’s and the other around his waist to pull him up. Once he stood, the boy kept his hand on the small of Sherlock’s back for much longer than Sherlock was comfortable with, although it was for support on balance. “Gonna tell me your name now?”

Sherlock paused for a moment before answering.

“Holmes.”

‘You’re not telling me your name is Holmes Holmes.”

“No, I am telling you only my last name, since you already know it.”

“Fine. Watson.” The boy held out his hand but Sherlock didn’t acknowledge it, keeping his eyes locked on the ones in front of him.

“Excuse me?”

“My last name. Watson.”

Sherlock smiled and shook his hand lightly. He could tell he wasn’t going to get rid of this boy easily, so he might as well make the best of it. 


	2. Spill your heart out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the whole sherlock/john holmes/watson thing gets you confused. theyre still the same person of course. i tried to keep them together.  
> anyways, hope you like it.

Sherlock swiftly walked past Watson after picking up the few books he had off the ground.

“Oi! Where are you going?”

Sherlock turned as if that was the stupidest question he had ever been asked.

“Class?”

“Oh, er..right. But umm, I mean, where’s your class?” Watson hopped forwards a bit catching up.

“Ms. Wyrick’s…” He answered, obviously questioning the boy’s tone and movement.

“Oh, yeah, I know where that is. I’m going over that way too, sorta.”

Sherlock squinted his eyes a bit. The boy was lying. About where he had to go? What was the point in that? He didn’t question him aloud and simply turned and carried on to his class with the other boy following him.

Sherlock noticed Watson staring at him as they were walking down the hall and finally sighed, giving into conversation.

“You want to ask me something?”

“Oh!” Watson blinked, turning his gaze to the ground, a bit embarrassed that his staring was noticed. “Well um, I was wondering…” He trailed off, looking back up to see Holmes staring back at him. Their eyes locked for a moment, Watson completely memorized by all the colors beaming out. He blinked and brought himself back, not sure how long he was silent. “Why were those kids trying to beat you up?”

“They were stupid.”  Holmes said calmly, looking back in front of him.

“Well how’s that your fault?”

“Exactly what I said. And it ended up with me flat on my back.”

Watson widened his eyes a bit, realizing that Holmes hadn’t noticed just how bad that sounded.

“That’s your class right?” Watson pointed up to the door that was clearly labeled ‘ **Wyrick** ’

“Yes.”

“Right well, mines just a bit down the hall.”

Holmes smiled slightly, not sure why the boy was still standing in front of him talking.

“Right..” He muttered again, turning down the hall. “See ya around.” He waved and Holmes threw up a hand before pushing open the door.

“Sherlock! Just barely cutting it on time, as usual.”

“I had more important matters to take care of.”  He took his seat without even bothering to look at his teacher.

“You always say that.” She smiled slightly.

“There’s always something more important.” Sherlock smiled back sarcastically.

 

12:00pm

 

The bell rang for class to end and lunch to begin. Sherlock entered the cafeteria and sat at the end of a table that was pushed against a wall. He pulled folder from his messenger bag and began his work. For a few moments he was left in peace to his work. But he should’ve known it wouldn’t have last. A white styrofoam tray deliberately landed on the spot in front of him. He looked up only slightly to see the blonde boy Watson. He blinked easily back down to his work as the other boy sat in front of him.

“No.”

“..What?”

“No, Watson, I don’t do small talk. So don’t try it.”

“Oh, straight to the point. I like it.”

Holmes shot a look to his side, then back at Watson, squinting his eyes a bit, doing a double take before returning to his work. Watson cleared his throat and tried something different.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I don’t eat.”

“You can’t just not e-“ He chuckled a bit but was cut off.

“I eat when necessary.” Holmes snapped back, not lifting his eyes for a second. Watson stopped and froze. He knew he’d heard that before. In fact he was certain of it. Holmes noticed the sudden drop and looked up more than irritated. “What?”

Watson gave a charming smile and tossed a small bag of carrots at him. “It’s necessary.”

Holmes glared at the bag then focused back on his work.

“….What are you doing?”

“Work.” He growled.

“What kind of work?”

Holmes sighed and placed his paper down. “Why do you insist on pointless questions? To get me away from my work? Because congratulations, it’s working.”

“Just curious.” Watson replied calmly.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Watson.” He returned down to his paper, telling himself not to get distracted again.

Watson smiled a bit mischievously. “Did you just call me a cat?”

Holmes gave no response or reaction, giving off that the conversation was dead. Watson quickly found out that no matter what he said from there he wasn’t going to get anything. Ha sat and twirled his plastic fork around the corn on his tray, occasionally stabbing a piece and raking it back off.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?” Muttered Holmes, still glued to his paper.

“I suppose she did..”

Holmes didn’t respond, but filed the statement away to analyze later. Meanwhile, Watson was taking an unnecessary large bite of his pizza, finishing it in a few more and chugged down his carton of milk. “…So, Holmes,”

“Watson..” He warned.

“I Just-“

“Don’t.”

“….Bell’s gonna ring. Better clean up.” He stood and threw his tray away in a tone that obviously stated he was getting irritated. Sherlock looked up let his eyes follow him out the door as the bell rang. They didn’t see each other for the rest of the day, that is, until school let out and John had to walk to the park to be picked up by his aunt. He sat on a bench and watched his feet sway above the ground. Then he noticed a cab stop a little ways past and a familiar figure step out. Holmes? Alone? What kind of cabbie would drive a kid around London alone? He watched as the boy crossed him arms against the wind and trotted into the library. After another quick scope for his aunt’s car, he too trotted across the street and into the library. When he entered, the young woman behind a counter with dark hair pulled behind her gave a welcoming smile and John nodded back. John stood in place looking all around the large building. He had never been inside the library, so he didn’t quite know what he had expected. It was all basic really, rows and rows of books, the faint hum of silence with only a few footsteps every so often. A dome ceiling, tables scattered about, but mainly in a cluster in the back, which he could barely make out. He saw a glimpse of a black coat sweep between a row of book and walked quickly after it. He reached the bookshelf and looked down the empty aisle confused. About a quarter of the way down he was stopped by a low, calm voice.

“Are you following me?”

“Oh!” He jumped and turned frantically with his fist balled up. “God…” He sighed when he saw Holmes standing in front of him. “No..I was just-…”He paused and licked his lips, looking up, “What are you doing in a library?”

Holmes looked around, puzzled, as if it were obvious.

“It’s a library.” He stated plainly.

“Yes I-” He licked his lips again, cutting himself off. “Shouldn’t you be home?”

“Who says I’m not?”

“You don’t live in a library..”

“Home isn’t where you live, dear Watson.”

John looked up at him in pure amazement, but broke away, trying to find something to focus on. A book, or the floor maybe.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you following me?”

They both looked at each other for a moment, knowing they both had to same answer. They didn’t want to go home. They wanted to stay away from there as long as possible. But it was plain in their eyes that it was for different reasons.

“Come on, I want to show you something.” Sherlock nudged his head back the way they came and walked off with John following him without a moment of question or hesitation.

Soon they found themselves at a round table that was promptly covered in books. John gave a questioning look but was only given a gesture to the table. He stepped closer to the table cautiously and picked up the closest book. It had a German Shepard on it as read Cracker. He pulled out the chair and regretted picking up the book when he read the rest of the title. The Best Dog in Vietnam. He tossed the book back on the table and saw the taller boy scowl at him.

“What?”

“You can’t put it back, that’s the whole point.” He pulled a book out from the bottom of the pile and sat on the other side of the table.

John groaned and stared at the book.

“…What kind of cabbie drives a kid alone around London?”

“They don’t care as long as you have money.” He flashed Mycroft’s wallet without bothering to look up. “Shut up and read.”

John sighed again and stared at the cover of the book for a long time before opening it and glaring at the boy across from him.

A long time passed and neither of them knew how long they had been there, but it hadn’t been long enough when John’s phone began to buzz in his pocket.

 

Incoming call- Harry

 

John rolled his eyes and looked at Sherlock, who was now watching him, and finally answered his phone.

“Hello?......Whoa, langue. I’m twelve.” A long pause and a roll of the eyes finally provoked an answer. “I’m at the library. ….It’s the library!” He snapped back, in the familiar tone of ‘what do you mean why am I here?’ that Sherlock had given him earlier. Sherlock smirked and returned to his book, satisfied that he knew what was being said on the other end of the phone. John sighed and his voice was suddenly more hushed like he had given in on an argument. “Alright…alright…Just, tell her I’ll be at the park in a minute..”  He placed his phone back on the table and rubbed his face before picking up the book again.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving?” Sherlock looked up a bit confused.

“Probably.” John sighed.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Not done.”

Sherlock smiled, “It is a library. You _can_ check the book out.”

John froze and looked up to meet Sherlock. “Oh. Right…”

Sherlock chuckled and closed his book.

“Come on.” They walked back up to the front desk, where they were both just a little too short to see over. Sherlock pulled out his card and took John’s book to put on the counter.

“Oh, actually checking out a book today?” The lady smiled.

“It’s not for me.”

“Oh.” She noticed John standing next to him and smiled wider.

“Would you mind holding this for me?” He stretched his hand more and handed her the book he hadn’t quite finished

“Of course.” She tucked the book under the table and checked out the other. “You coming back tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He smiled a genuine, sweet smile. He came to the library every day after school. It started as an experiment, but then Marva, the kind lady they were now talking to, noticed how sad he looked and handed him a book. The Greatest of William Shakespeare. The thick hard back cover landed in front of him. He looked up, obviously annoyed to be interrupted.

“You look like a classic poetry bloke.” She smiled and took a seat when the boy actually looked down at the book. “Marva.” She pointed at her name tag. “Your friendly London Librarian.”

The boy smiled nervously. “Sherlock.”

“Well go on Sherlock. Read you some Shakespeare. I’d recommend Macbeth, but you do as you please. Please.” She smiled and watched Sherlock open the book to a random story and become instantly glued to the page.  That was that. Everyday Sherlock visited the library to read the book, and Marva became the first person Sherlock could talk and open up to. Until John, who had been caught staring at Sherlock’s honest smile by Marva, who cleared her throat. John turned away blushing slightly.

“I- erm…I should be going.”

Marva smiled and nodded.

“You too young man.” She looked at Sherlock, who responded with an eye roll and a small sigh.

John took his book and left the building as fast as he could without another word. He ran over to the park and hopped into the small silver car waiting for him.

“Where the hell were you?”

“The..library. Didn’t Harry tell you?”

“What were you doing at the bloody library?”

“Well…it’s a library..”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“I was just…reading..”

“…Who the hell goes to the library _to read_?”

“…Normal people?”

His aunt rolled her eyes while she bickered to herself, occasionally looking back at John.

“See?” She pointed to Harry as they entered the flat. “Why can’t you be more like your sister? Good grades and on time. I saw your report card you know. If you want to go to medical school you’re going to have to shape p. they don’t take C’s and D’s.”

“…You aren’t my mum...” He muttered.

“What?” She turned back around, she knew what he said, she just wanted him to say it again.

“I said you aren’t my mother.”

“You’re right. I’m not. You know who your mother was? She was kind, and funny and brilliant, and caring. And she was my sister. You know what else? Maybe, she’d still be here, if it weren’t for you whining and asking so many damn questions about your father!”

John’s heart sank and his eyes widened.

“N-….no..no it…it was an accident..she….she wouldn’t have…” John’s eyes darted around the room, filling with tears the more his heart sank. He couldn’t lift his head back to his aunt, who’s jaw had dropped in astonishment from her own words.

“J-John, no I-”

John finally looked up to her when the tears building in his eyes had finally fallen. He jolted to his room and slammed the door behind him. His breath was caught in his tears many times as he sunk down the door.

“John! John open up! Sweetie come on, come out..” His aunt was banging on his door but he wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t. His body had locked itself down with his knees to his chest, sobbing. Eventually, after his aunt had stopped hitting his door, his body gave in slightly to let his hand in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and made a new message.

 

(Mon. 6:23pm)

Hey Sherlock.

 

Meanwhile for Sherlock, who had finally dragged himself home, was jumped at the door by his brother.

“M-Mycroft.”

Mycroft didn’t respond, only kept searching his brothers exposed skin.

“Wha-what are you-”

“I know what happened at school.”

“What- Oh, I’m not, no. I’m fine.” Sherlock jerked his arm away from his brother.

“That boy better hope so.”

“Mycroft-”

Mycroft pulled the scarf off his brother and froze when he saw the steak of welt skin on his neck. Immediately his eyes filled with fire.

“He’s dead.”

“Mycroft he- I didn’t…”

“He didn’t hurt you? You aren’t hurt? I don’t care if you keep things from me, Sherlock. Just don’t lie about it.”

“Mycroft, I wasn’t hurt _at school_.”

Mycroft’s shoulders loosened and the fire in his eye faded to guilt. Sherlock yanked his scarf out of his hand and marched to his room. He was of course, followed by his older brother.

“Sherlock I..am so..”

“It doesn’t matter. What happened, happened, and it’s not going to be erased.”

“It didn’t have to happen.”

“It was inevitable.”

Mycroft stood silent. There were many things he could have said. But there were a million Sherlock could have replied with. He knew arguing with his brother was pointless. He could be right in every way, but Sherlock would never give in. Changing his mind wasn’t something he did. So instead he just nodded before adding one more thing.

“I am sorry.”

“Just get out of my room.”

And so he did, turned and retreated to his own room. Only moments later the front door slammed and his father began shouting. And his brave, but so scared mother, stood up to shout against him so he couldn’t take his anger out on the kids.

 

(Mon. 6:23pm)

Hey Sherlock.

 

(Mon. 6:25pm)

_Oh, and here I thought you’d forgotten about me. Pity._

(Mon. 6:26pm)

Nope. Can’t get rid of me that easy.

 

(Mon. 6:29pm)

_What’s wrong?_

(Mon. 6:30pm)

How the hell did you figure out something was wrong from two texts?

 

(Mon. 6:30pm)

_I didn’t. I got it from the third._

(Mon. 6:31pm)

You’re good.

 

(Mon. 6:32pm)

_I have to be._

(Mon. 6:33pm)

Why?

 

(Mon. 6:33pm)

_Work. Don’t change the subject._

(Mon. 6:35pm)

Nothing’s wrong.

 

(Mon. 6:37pm)

_Oh please John, I know people. I know how they work. When people hurt they crawl and each for help, but won’t ask for it. It has to be handed to them. They have to be asked. People want to spill their feelings all over the floor and have someone else clean it up. They want to someone to listen so bad, but they won’t ask. They never ask. And this is you, not asking for help._

(Mon. 6:38pm)

I don’t have anything to talk about.

 

(Mon. 6:39pm)

_Then why waste both our time texting me?_

(Mon. 6: 42pm)

_Fine, here’s a subject, your family._

 

(Mon. 6:44pm)

My family?

 

(Mon. 6:45pm)

_Yes, awhile back you said your family was “screwed up” which by the way was a cry for help. But since at the time I did not care for your existence, I ignored it._

(Mon. 6:47pm)

Is this some part of your sick work? Like an experiment?

 

Sherlock lowered his phone and looked at his closed door where he heard muffled voices leaking through. Experiment? Maybe. Distraction? Possibly. But if he were honest with himself, it was because he had to know. He had to know if there were families out there as bad as his, or even worse.

 

(Mon. 6:49pm)

_John, focus._

 

(Mon. 6:51pm)

I wouldn’t know where to start…

 

(Mon. 6:51pm)

_Try the beginning?_

(Mon. 6:58pm)

Well…I live with my sister and aunt, in her flat. We moved in with her about..I don’t know, maybe 3 or 4 years ago. We have our ups and downs. But we shouldn’t even be here… my father was in the war. He was a great man, from what I remember and what I was told. I do remember how much my mum loved him. She adored the guy; they were just perfect for each other. He was a war hero and she was an amazing doctor. But umm…one day, she got a letter in the mail…and then she stopped smiling. She didn’t laugh anymore and her eyes weren’t as bright as they used to be. I noticed it was way past Dad’s come home date, so I asked her about it. I remember the first time I asked her she told me he had got caught up in an important meeting with a very important man.  I kept asking who or why was he taking so long and where was he. Roughly 2 and a half months after she got that letter, she got in a car accident and was rushed to the hospital. But she was dead before they got her hooked up. I’m starting to think….maybe..it wasn’t an accident…

 

(Mon. 6:59pm)

_Why would you say that?_

(Mon. 7:00pm)

Something my aunt said..

 

(Mon. 7:00pm)

_John, you did not drive your mother to that. I can assure you that is not what happened._

(Mon. 7:01pm)

Sherlock don’t pretend to have sentiment with me.

(Mon. 7:05pm)

What about your family then?

 

(Mon. 7:07pm)

_Good question. What about them?_

(Mon. 7:08pm)

Well they aren’t all rainbows and sunshine. It’s practically the first thing you told me. Actually, it’s the first thing you told me about you. Hell it’s the last thing other than not eating and sleeping.

 

(Mon. 7:08pm)

_You don’t need to know about me._

(Mon. 7:10pm)

I do feel a bit better after telling you..

 

(Mon. 7:10pm)

_I don’t do feelings, John._

(Mon. 7:10ppm)

Maybe you should start

 

 (Mon. 7:11pm)

_Why? Because you said so?_

(Mon. 7:11pm)

Because it’s good for you.

(Mon. 7:14pm)

I imagine your family has its good bits and bad bits?

 

(Mon. 7:15pm)

_Not really. More of bad and almost tolerable._

 

(Mon. 7:17pm)

You can’t keep it all bundled up Sherlock.

 

(Mon. 7:19pm)

_Oh you watch me._

John opened his door and his aunt fell back a bit from her support being taken away. She stood and hugged John around his shoulders silently until she knelt down and began rubbing the back of John’s head.

“I’m sorry, John, sweetie. I don’t know what made me say that. She was strong and would have never….it was an accident, love. You didn’t drive her to it. Okay? I promise. It was just an accident.”

John wrapped his arms around his aunt. She wasn’t saying it for him anymore. It was for her own reassurance. She was crying on his shoulder and John remembered his place again. He, a small, young boy, was the rock and only solid wall to his unstable aunt.

“It’s okay, it was just an accident.” It was understandment and forgiveness. For what was said and what had happened.

“John.” She pulled away with streaks of tears and a weak smile. “Still my brave solider?”

John nodded, bringing more of a smile to his aunt.

“Come on then,” She stood and held out her hand. “Let’s make dinner.”

 

Unfortunately, no one was as forgiving in the Holmes house. Shouting was raging in the living room. This time Sherlock was almost certain he heard Mycroft’s voiced mixed in. whatever they were shouting about, it was far past the original argument.

 

(Mon. 8:23pm)

I won’t let go until it all comes out.

(Mon. 8:23pm)

That didn’t sound bad until after I sent it..

 

(Mon. 8:30pm)

_Are you still on about feelings?_

(Mon. 8:31pm)

What else would I be talking about?

 

(Mon. 8:31pm)

_You do tend to be very whimsical._

(Mon. 8:32pm)

Well, yes that’s what I’m talking about.

 

(Mon. 8:34pm)

_Why are you bringing it up again over an hour later?_

(Mon. 8:34pm)

I was busy. I had to make dinner.

 

(Mon. 8:38pm)

_You cook?_

(Mon. 8:39pm)

Somewhat. I’m learning.

(Mon. 8:41pm)

Why, do you want me to bake you some cookies?

(Mon. 8:46pm)

Oh right, you don’t eat.

(Mon. 9:08pm)

Sherlock?

 

(Mon. 9:19pm)

_Don’t you ever shut up?_

(Mon. 9:20pm)

Not really

 

(Mon. 9:20pm)

_Terrific._

(Mon. 9:23pm)

So then, how was school?

 

(Mon. 9:24pm)

_Same as always. Dull and full of idiots. Why do you care?_

(Mon. 9:24pm)

They can’t all be bad.

 

(Mon. 9:25pm)

_More than the majority._

(Mon. 9:29pm)

_Anything happen?_

(Mon. 9:30pm)

_John._

(Mon. 9:30pm)

What?

 

(Mon. 9:30pm)

_Stop. You don’t need to ask ridiculous questions to try and get me to “open up”._

(Mon. 9:31pm)

Come on, it feels good to get it all off your chest.

 

(Mon. 9:31pm)

_There is nothing to discuss._

(Mon. 9:32pm)

You’ll feel better.

 

(Mon. 9:34pm)

_I’m fine._

(Mon. 9:34pm)

You’re a liar.

 

(Mon. 9:34pm)

_There’s nothing wrong with me._

(Mon. 9:35pm)

If there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that no one is ever “fine”

 

(Mon. 9:42pm)

_Shouldn’t you be going to bed or something?_

(Mon. 9:44pm)

Why? Are you waiting for me to fall asleep?

 

(Mon. 9:45pm)

_Yes, actually._

(Mon. 9:46pm)

…Why?

 

(Mon. 9:46pm)

_Experiment,_

(Mon. 9:48pm)

On what?

 

(Mon. 9:49pm)

_When the average person falls asleep, wakes up and how that effects their day._

(Mon. 9:50pm)

So I’m just a test subject? What’s up with the experiment anyways?

(Mon. 9:56pm)

Oh right, you don’t sleep.

(Mon. 9:59pm)

Does that mean you have bad days?

(Mon. 10:03pm)

You think it’s because you don’t sleep? It probably is.

(Mon. 10:11pm)

Wait, I’m average?

 

(Mon. 10:13pm)

_We’ll just have to see._

(Mon. 10:13pm)

What does that mean?

 

(Mon. 10:15pm)

_It means it’s time for you to go to bed._

(Mon. 10:17pm)

If you tell me when to go to sleep it kinda ruins the experiment. Besides, I’m not tired.

 

(Mon. 10:21pm)

I’m reading, since you didn’t ask.

 

(Mon. 10:27pm)

_Why would I?_

(Mon. 10:27pm)

Are you trying to ignore me? Because you can’t.

(Mon. 10:27pm)

I’m irresistible.

(Mon. 10:52pm)

Okay, you win. Record it. March 18, Monday, 10:52pm. John falls asleep.

 

(Tues. 1:08am)

_My father didn’t want another kid. I was a mistake. I shouldn’t exist. He detests me, and I him. He beats me if he even so much as hears my voice. I stay in my room with my work because I’m honestly afraid of what he’ll do if he sees me. All my brother does to provoke him and pretend to care when I’m hurt. But he’s the “prize child”. Everything he does is and always will be perfect. My father would never harm a hair on his head. But me..he wouldn’t think twice. In fact he’d jump at the chance. So I isolate myself in my room, only I don’t get to see my mother. I know she has more scars than I.. I’ve been raised to think that if I speak I will be punished. And it’s true. No matter where I am or what I say, someone gets upset. It doesn’t bother me, if they get upset then they are obviously too senseless to understand simple reason. Just like the imbeciles at school. They call me many things but seem to favor “freak”. Just because I’m more clever than them. I’m clever because I stay dedicated to my work, I’m always on work because it’s my passion, it’s all that matters…or maybe it’s because it’s all I know…I do suppose I feel a slight weight lifted after this. It’s almost shameful that you won’t see it._

(Are you sure you want to cancel without sending?)

(Yes.)

(Message saved to drafts.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much happened, just a bit of bonding..  
> i do have more planned for the next few chapters though :3


	3. Mysterious John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah..sorry it took awhile..  
> also I finally named their aunt, I was really kinda paranoid about it because I dont like naming character that might already have a name..so..yeah..

“John! Tuesday, 7am. School.”  John’s aunt opened his door and flicked on his light. John groaned and pulled his blanket over his head to block the light. “Get up.”

John groaned louder and flipped himself over.

“Chop chop!”

John finally kicked his blanket off, muttering to himself.

“Bloody school..so early…I need my sleep, I’m a growing boy!”

“Oh, stop your whining and get dressed.”

John groaned again, slamming himself onto his bed again and picked up his phone.

 

(Tues. 7:02am)

Tuesday morning. March 19th, 7:02am.John has woken, good mood yet to come.

 

(Tues. 7:04am)

_You were asleep for over nine hours, how are you not rested?_

(Tues. 7:06am)

You timed me?

 

(Tues. 7:06am)

_It’s simple math._

(Tues.  7:10am)

So my time unconscious doesn’t please you?

 

(Tues. 7:12am)

_It doesn’t matter if it ‘pleases’ me or not._

“Sherlock eat something.” His mother pleaded when he entered the room and seemed to be headed straight for the door.

“I’m fine.”

“Breakfast is important.”

“Then I’ll eat when I get to class. I’m late.”

“At least wait for your brother.”

Sherlock sighed and leaned against the counter.

“Mycroft!” He shouted, but got no response.

“…How is 7:15 late?”

“..I like to be early.”

“So you’re late to being early?”

“I’m going to be if Mycroft moves any slower.”

“..So how are you doing?”

Sherlock turned away to avoid eye contact. He knew he couldn’t lie to her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she placed her hand under Sherlock’s chin and turned him towards her again. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine…if I’m not, then I will be.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

“My baby boy too stubborn to give in to emotions..”

“They just hurt don’t they?”

“Not always.” She smiled.

“What are you still doing here?” Mycroft walked in, pulling on his jacket.

“Waiting for you. Honestly, could you go any slower?”

“Yes. Would you like to see?”

“Mycroft, take your brother to school.”

“Yes Mummy.”

“Be careful.”

“You too.” Mycroft closed the door and caught up to his brother who was deliberately walking faster than normal.

“Get lost.” He growled.

“On the defensive this morning?”

“I can walk to school myself.”

“Mummy doesn’t seem to think so.”

“She worries.”

“For good reasons.”

Sherlock spun around to his brother to say something but stopped when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

(Tues. 7:17am)

Do you know what I hate?

 

(Tues. 7:17am)

_I have a feeling you’re about to tell me._

(Tues. 7:17am)

Girls.

 

“Did John just come out to you?” Mycroft teased, looking over Sherlock’s shoulder.

“What?” He looked at his brother, then back at his phone, tilting it away.

“Subtext.” He whispered smugly before taking a few steps in front.

 

(Tues. 7:18am)

_Something your sister did?_

(Tues. 7:19am)

Yeah, how did you know?

 

(Tues. 7:19am)

_There were only a few things you could have been referring to._

“Sister troubles.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“…Yes?”

“Cover story.”

“Shut up.”

 

(Tues. 7:20am)

She’s just so bloody annoying. Every day, all day, pisses me off.

 

(Tues. 7:20am)

_How old is she?_

(Tues. 7:21am)

She’s 15. You’d think she be more mature.

 

(Tues. 7:21am)

_Perhaps she only teases you because it’s how she shows her…protectiveness for you._

Sherlock peered over his phone to his brother, as his own mental reassurance. He remembered what his mother told him so often “He only teases you because he loves you. He’s very protective of his little brother.”

“Talking about me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

(Tues. 7:22am)

Doubt it. She’s such a bitch.

 

(Tues. 7:22am)

_What strong langue you have._

(Tues. 7:22am)

The better to express myself with.

(Tues. 7:24am)

Sorry, my aunt and sister have a bit of a sour tongue, and I’m usually home with them so..

 

(Tues. 7:25am)

_It’s fine. I have to leave now, don’t bother responding, you’ll only waste both of our time._

“Just call if you need me.” Mycroft parted from his brother to go off to the high school.

“Why would I need you?”

Mycroft didn’t even shrug, but continued to the larger building. Sherlock sat at a picnic table and pulled out a few papers as he waited for the school to open.

 

“John, come on!  We gotta go! I’m gonna be late!”

“ _I’m_  ready, Harry’s the one taking forever!”

“Harry, get your ass in gear! I got a job to get to!”

“How long is this one going to last?” Harry finally stepped out of her room and grabbed her bag.

“Not long if you don’t shut up and get in the car.” She helped push Harry out the door and over to the lift. “Everybody got everything?”

“Umm..”

“Too bad, we aren’t going back.”

They reached the school at 7:34am due to her speeding.

“Alright, have a nice day, hugs and kisses, get out of my car.”

They hopped out of the car and waved when it sped by.

“Have a nice day squirt.” Harry ruffled up John’s hair and smirked.

“I will if I’m away from you.”

“That hurts, John.”

John rolled his eyes and walked up to the building and his sister carried on to the high school. He tugged at the door for a moment before realizing it was still locked. Soon his attention was drawn to a picnic table where two boys were sitting. He knew Holmes, and recognize the other but couldn’t place his name.

“Holmes.” He stated plainly, trying to ignore the other boy.

“Ohh, another one..” He muttered.

“You going to introduce us?” The boy asked, and with a sigh, Sherlock complied.

“Greg, Watson. Watson, Greg.”

“Watson?” Greg looked up with his hand held out.

“Last name.” He smiled gently and shook the hand.

“Ah yes, he does have a fetish for last names.” He looked over to Sherlock th back at John. “He called me Lestrade for nearly two years.”

“It’s not a _fetish_.”

“Then what is it?”

Sherlock continued at his paper as if he hadn’t heard the question.

“Watson. You’re here early.”

“Uhh..yeah.” John finally took a seat at the table. “My aunt had to get to her new job, so she had to drop us off early.”

“Your aunt?”

“Yeah, I live with my aunt.”

Sherlock stopped and stared at John, gathering any visible information. Greg cleared his throat to cut the silence.

“You’re staring..” He muttered

“Yes.” Sherlock’s eyes feel from John’s face and to his neck and chest, tilting his head as they traveled over his arm.

“Stop deducing. You’re scaring the boy.”

“Deducing?” John asked, obviously uncomfortable.

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but instead his hone buzzed beside him, lighting up with the name ‘John’. Sherlock looked up to the blonde boy sitting in front of him then back down to this phone, questionably.

 

(Tues. 7:36am)

Hey Sherlock.

 

(Tues. 7:36am)

I told you not to bother responding.

 

“Hold out your hands.” Sherlock placed his phone and hands on the table palm up.

“Umm..” John looked at Greg who only gave a shrug.

John hesitantly held his hands over the table with his palms up. Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed John’s hands, holding them in his own. Sherlock’s eyes focused on John’s to lock him in place.  His eyes narrowed momentarily before they were brought back to his phone that it up with ‘John’. He let go of the other boy’s hands with a huff and picked up his phone.

 

(Tues. 7:37am)

Guess it didn’t work.

 

Sherlock put his phone back down, staring at John, puzzled.

“…You okay mate?” Greg asked, looking back and forth between the two.

“How often do coincidences happen?”

John stuttered, unable to break Sherlock’s locked gaze on him.

“All the time, I suppose.” Greg answered, knowing it was directed towards him.

“But are they ever really…coincidental?”

“Well, that’s why they’re coincidences..but in your world, never. Everything is always connected.”

“There is no such thing as a coincidence..” Sherlock muttered, almost to reassure himself.

After a few minutes of Sherlock still not breaking from John, Greg cleared his throat and pushed off the table.

“Almost 7:40. Better get your stuff together.”

Neither of them moved, Sherlock stayed staring at John, and John stared back.

“Uhh..” Greg cleared his throat again. “Is there..something going on between you two I should know about?”

“What?” John broke from Sherlock in a squeaky voice. “No! I’ve hardly just met the guy. I-”

“Yeah, okay.” He laughed. “Go on in, I wanna talk to your boyfriend for a minute.

Both Sherlock and John glared at Greg as John left.

“You can’t know everything about someone just by _staring_ at them.”

“I do it to you every day.”

“Yeah but you’ve known me for two years. I’m an open book. What else could you find out about me that you don’t already know?” Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but Greg cut him off. “No- don’t answer that.”

Sherlock stood silently, grabbed his bag and papers and turned for the building. With a sigh, Greg came to follow him, until he spotted Sherlock’s phone still lying on the table.

“Oh Sherlock…” He picked up the phone, flipping it in his hand. “You’re a genius but you loose something every day.”

 

New message- John

 

Greg looked up at the door, then back down to the phone when it was done buzzing in his hands. “…Whoops.”

 

(Tues. 7:39am)

Come on Sherlock. Now you aren’t going to talk to me?

 

Intrigued, closed the message and scrolled through the others. “He’s gonna kill me for this..” He muttered to himself. But it didn’t stop him from reading all the messages.

 

12:00pm

 

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock didn’t stop at Greg’s voice, in fact he hardly slowed down.

“You uhh..left your phone on the table this morning.”

“Oh.” Was the entire response when he took his phone back. But from Sherlock, was the best ‘thank you’ you would get.

“So…who’s John…exactly?” Greg tensed up, preparing for Sherlock to murder him from the inside for going through his phone.

“…You went through my phone?”

“Curiosity killed the cat?” Greg smiled nervously and Sherlock grinned.

“I’m not going to kill you. Nor  are you a cat.”

“…I tell you I went through your phone, and you smile and tell a joke? …I think I’d rather you kill me.”

“Because you read my messages? Don’t be so dramatic.”

“So..you aren’t mad?”

“Of course I’m mad, I’m going to destroy everything you own.”

“Oh..good. There’s the Sherlock I know…don’t think you skipped my question.”

“I don’t know him. He just texted me.”

”And you replied.”

“I thought it was you.”

“After that.”

“…”

“Sherlock.”

“What do you want me to say Greg.” Sherlock stopped in the middle of the hall, finally looking at Greg.

“You don’t have to say anything Sherlock, just be careful, alright? You don’t know who he is. Or anything about him. Or if he is even who he says he is.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, he could be anyone. He could be who he says he is, or someone completely different.”

Sherlock turned and walked into the cafeteria without a word, which was his way of saying he was done with the conversation.

“Way to be last to the party, Holmes.” John smiled.

“I had a matter to attend to.”

“…You really like giving off that whole ‘dark and mysterious’ vibe don’t you?”

“..Why is that what you get from me?” Sherlock sat down with Greg beside him.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Is that good?” They both smiled.

“Alright, enough flirting you two. Honestly, I’m gone one day..”

John cleared his throat after realizing what he was doing.

“Can I borrow your phone? I need to text my sister.” He asked, pointing directly down to Sherlock’s phone. Sherlock gave Greg a short glance from the corner of his eye, which, thankfully, he caught.

“Here, use mine.” He smiled and handed John his phone. “I’m going to get something to eat. You coming?”

“I don’t eat.”

“Come on.” Greg grabbed Sherlock by the scarf and pulled him from the table.

 

(Tues. 12:06pm)

Really Harry? You took my phone? –JW

                                                                               

(Tues. 12:06pm)

Took you long enough.

 

(Tues. 12:06pm)

Just turn it off and leave it alone. –JW

 

(Tues. 12:07pm)

I talked to your friend. He seemed a bit rude.

 

(Tues. 12:07pm)

Turn my phone off.

 

(Tues. 12:08pm)

Bossy.

 

“So you think Watson, is your John..because he lives with his aunt, has a sister, and goes to middle school?”

“Well..it’s possible..”

“It’s a pretty wide range.”

“But possible.”

“Sherlock you sound so desperate. Who says he even lives with his sister? He had to borrow my phone, so he probably doesn’t even have one.”

Sherlock didn’t respond.

“Just don’t get your hopes up.”

“Hopes?”

“Just don’t think about it. Okay?”

“…”

“Sherlock. Okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“So..we done?”

“We’re done.”

“Alright. Get out of here, unless you’re actually going to eat lunch.”

Sherlock gave Greg a look of ‘don’t be ridiculous’ and turned for the table. John rolled his eyes when he saw Sherlock return empty handed.

“Exactly how often do you eat?”

“When time allows and work is slow.”

John threw another bag of carrots at Sherlock.

“You’re what, 11? You’re a kid. Slow down and eat.”

“Ten.” He picked up the bag and plopped it further away.

“You’re ten in the seventh grade?” John picked up the bag and his fork, pushing it through the plastic and tearing it open.

“Skipped fourth. Too dull.”

“Right…now eat the carrots.” John held the bag of carrots in front of Sherlock again, but he only stared at it. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you..not eat.”

“Don’t watch me.”

They both sat and stared at each other for a moment before Sherlock gave in, oblivious to Greg turning the corner of the table. He took John’s fork and stabbed a peach slice on the tray and delicately slurped it into his mouth. Greg sat, amazed. John smiled as he took his sandwich and pushed his tray over to Sherlock. Greg didn’t speak, he was afraid it would make Sherlock stop.

“Oh, right, here’s your phone. Thanks.”

“Y-yeah. No problem, thanks.” Greg took his phone and continued to watch Sherlock while John ate his sandwich, occasionally looking at Greg, wondering why he was so amazed.

“Are you going to continue staring at me?”

“Well who knows when I’m going to see you eat again.”

“Tomorrow.” John interrupted. “You’re going to start eating as long as I’m here.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stabbed another peach.

“Wait so; I yell at you for two _years_ to eat and get nothing, but he does it for two _minutes_ and you do?”

“You never had a peach.” Sherlock responded a bit sarcastically. John laughed quietly, looking down at his tray.

The day carried on until the end where John met up with his sister just past the picnic tables.

“You are unbelievable sometimes.”

“Okay, so I took your phone. It’s not like you have anything to hide, that kid you’re always talking to is pretty damn boring. Not to mention rude.”

“Give me my phone back.” John muttered as he snatched his phone back from his sister.

“What kind of name is ‘Sherlock’ anyways?”

“A better one than ‘Harry’.”

“Yeah whatever short stack.”

“I’m not short!”

“Go wait at the park, I’ll be there in a bit, I’ve got something I gotta do.”

“Going to see your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my-…just don’t go tell Aunt Jude. We had a deal.

“She’s gonna find out.”

“She’ll find out when I fucking tell her and no sooner.”

“Alright..”

Harry walked away without another word.

“Alright, I’ll walk to the park then. By myself!” He shouted after his sister as she disappeared behind another building. He looked down at his phone and stared at the blank screen, dreading to know what his sister did. He finally turned and noticed two feet in front of him.

“Why are you going to the park?” A low

“Oh- holy…Holmes..”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, still waiting for an answer.

“It’s uh..it’s where my aunt picks me up to take me home.”

“Mind if I come?”

“…To my house?”

“No the- the park. I was headed to the library, which is just across the street.”

“Right. Yeah, sure, that’d be..fine.”

Sherlock eyed John’s phone as he tucked in his pocket.

“So is this going to become a regular thing?” John asked after a long few minutes of silent walking.

“Hmm?”

“You, walking me to the park.”

“I’m not your escort I just happen to be going to a close by destination.”

“Still…you don’t seem like a very…social kind of guy.”

“I’m just going to the library. I was only trying to be polite but if it bothers you so much, then I won’t bother.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

Sherlock lifted his gaze from the sidewalk to John, who looked over to him and smiled softly.


	4. The arrogant otter

**Friday, March 29 th Spring Break.**

 

 

(Fri. 12:03pm)

Hello Sherlock. It’s been awhile.

 

(Fri. 12:03pm)

_It’s been two hours._

 

(Fri. 12:03pm)

Two hours is a long time.

 

(Fri. 12:04pm)

_No, it’s two hours._

(Fri. 12:05pm)

Alright fine, Mr. Technical. What have you accomplished in two hours?

 

(Fri. 12:05pm)

_I started and finished Timon of Athens._   
  


(Fri. 12:06pm)

Oh. Any good?

 

(Fri. 12:06pm)

_Of course it was good, it’s Shakespeare._

 

(Fri. 12:07pm)

Right, of course. I wouldn’t expect any less.

 

(Fri. 12:08pm)

_What does that mean?_

 

(Fri. 12:09pm)

You, reading bloody Shakespeare on spring break.

 

(Fri. 12:10pm)

_Would you rather me outside, running about London chasing criminals?_

(Fri. 12:10pm)

That’d be pretty awesome.

 

(Fri. 12:12pm)

_Alright, keep the tele stationed on the news._

 

(Fri. 12:14pm)

I look forward to seeing you.

 

8:00pm

 

_‘Braking news over at Scotland Yard; Detective Inspector Lestrade and his crew have found the man who, just two days ago, killed a woman and her three year old son..’_

(Fri. 802pm)

Still not seeing you.

 

(Fri. 8:02pm)

_It’s Scotland Yard; of course they aren’t going to say on live television that they got help from a ten year old._

(Fri. 8:04pm)

And how exactly were you allowed on this?

 

(Fri. 8:04pm)

_Detective Inspector Lestrade is the father of someone I know. That’s how I got on the case._

(Fri. 8:06pm)

Prove it.

(Fri. 8:07pm)

The story is up at 9. I want you to tell me what happened before then.

 

(Fri. 8:09pm)

_It was the florist._

 

(Fri. 8:09pm)

Carry on.

 

(Fri. 8:16pm)

_The florist. Or the woman’s fiancé for roughly two months. Unfortunately for him, the woman’s former lover paid a visit without his knowledge. The two participated in their old familiar activities and she became pregnant. She told the florist it was his, so he planned to marry her. They got engaged and, almost two months later, the florist ran into the former lover. Neither of them knowing who the other was, they became close friends. The more time they were together, the more they liked each other. Enough to fall in love. The florist called off the wedding to run off with his new lover. Three years later, the former lover confesses that he went cross country to win the woman back after hearing she was getting married. But then he met the florist and realized who he really was. The florist told the story of how his girlfriend got pregnant so he planned to marry her, but threw it all away for his new partner. They soon realized they were talking about the same woman. The florist, in a jealous and fury fit, went to kill the woman because he could not bring himself to harm his new love. He had planned to adopt the child, but unfortunately, he was caught in the cross fire._

(Fri. 8:16pm)

Bit of a umm..out there story don’t you think?

 

(Fri. 8:16pm)

_It’s London. Strange things happen all the time. It wasn’t very hard to figure out._

(Fri. 9:02pm)

That..was amazing. You are amazing.

(Fri. 9:03pm)

Really, that is unbelievable, you were spot on. That was fantastic. Sorry I doubted you, really.

 

(Fri. 9:05pm)

_Oh, so you read the story._

 

(Fri. 9:06pm)

I can’t believe you found out who the killer was. You really are a bloody genius!

 

(Fri. 9:07pm)

_You really think so?_

 

(Fri. 9:07pm)

Of course! I can’t believe that really happened. How’d you pull off working with Scotland freakin Yard and finding them a killer?

 

(Fri. 9:08pm)

_It’s been my work for two years now. Only no one really listens to a ten year old on a murder case. Except for D.I Lestrade every now and then. But that’s only because he pities me._

(Fri. 9:10pm)

_That’s_ your work? Finding freakin murderers?

 

(Fri. 9:10pm)

_No. Not necessarily. Not at all really._

(Fri. 9:10pm)

Then what?

 

(Fri.9:12pm)

_I work for Scotland Yard. Research, tracking, most everything._

 

(Fri. 9:13pm)

So you do work for Scotland Yard.

 

(Fri. 9:13pm)

_They just..don’t know it…_

 

(Fri. 9:14pm)

Oooh now I get it. Naughty Sherlock.

 

(Fri. 9:17pm)

_If they would listen to me more they’d get a lot more done a lot faster._

 

(Fri. 9:18pm)

Oh yeah, you got some real problems there.  Being so much of a secret detective, even the people you’re working for don’t know you’re working for them.

 

(Fri. 9:18pm)

_I’m not a secret detective._

 

(Fri.  9:18pm)

Then what are you?

 

(Fri. 9:20pm)

_I don’t know._

 

(Fri. 9:20pm)

Hell must be frozen over.

 

(Fri. 9:23pm)

_I’m just a ten year old city boy._

 

(Fri. 9:24pm)

Born and raised in South Detroit?

 

(Fri. 9:26pm)

_No, that is not what I meant._

(Fri. 9:27pm)

Did you take the midnight train going anywhere?

 

(Fri. 927pm)

_No John, I most certainly did not._

(Fri. 9:28pm)

Sure you did, you just have to believe.

 

(Fri. 9:29pm)

_Okay Peter Pan._

 

(Fri. 9:30pm)

Is that sass I’m getting?

 

(Fri. 9:32pm)

_What would that make you? A small town girl living in a lonely world?_

(Fri. 9:35pm)

I’m seriously laughing so much, my aunt came in to check on me.  I didn’t think you had the sass in you Sherlock.

 

(Fri. 9:35pm)

_I learned from the mediocre._

(Fri. 9:35pm)

You are too much, my little lost boy.

(Fri. 9:37pm)

Is it bad if I can imagine you in a raccoon costume now?

 

(Fri.9:38pm)

_Considering how that would mean you have come up with an image of what I might look like and then put that image in a raccoon costume, I’d say yes._

 

(Fri. 9:39pm)

You make me sound like a creep.

 

(Fri. 9:40pm)

_Who’s to say you aren’t?_

 

(Fri. 9:43pm)

Well it doesn’t seem to stop you from talking to me.

(Fri. 9:48pm)

Why do you talk to me? You don’t even know who I am. Not really.

 

(Fri. 9:48pm)

_I could ask you the same._

(Fri. 9:48pm)

I’ve told you, you’re interesting to me.

(Fri. 9:51ppm)

Why do you talk to me?

 

(Fri. 9:52pm)

_Why wouldn’t I talk to you?_

 

Why did he talk to John? Of all people, why talk to someone he was never met? He didn’t know John, and John didn’t know him. Maybe that was the reason itself. Perhaps Sherlock felt he could he could speak to John openly because he had never met him. Sherlock pondered on that for a moment and quickly decided it was a ridiculous and impossible idea. Why did he waste his time talking to a boy he’s never seen before? No…not a waste of time…he filled time. He blocked time, he became a part of Sherlock’s day. He was a distraction from his real life and the outside world. He didn’t have to deal with the people at school or his brother or family or anything. John allowed him to walk into his own world for however long he wanted

 

(Fri. 10:02pm)

_You’re a distraction._

(Fri. 10:03pm)

I’m a distraction?

 

(Fri. 10:03pm)

It’s a great thing John, and I’m grateful for it.

 

“Sherlock, one of your playmates are here.”

“Excuse me?” Sherlock looked up to Mycroft standing at his door.

“Sherlock?” Greg entered the room, knocking on his door lightly.

“Greg? What the bloody hell are you doing here? It’s past ten.”

“Yeah. I can tell time.”

“I’ll leave you two to…whatever it is you do.” Mycroft grinned and turned out the door.

“Shouldn’t you be home, or…not here?”

“A lot of people should be home when they aren’t…”

“Oh. You’re fathers on another case?”

“Yeah..he didn’t say when he’d be back. Just ‘out awhile on a big one’.”

“I just solved him one.”

“Yeah..I appreciate it. But it didn’t keep him home long.” Greg slowly walked over to Sherlock’s bed and sat on the corner. “...Mind if I crash here for a bit?”

“What about your mum?”

“She wasn’t home when I left. God knows where she is..” He shrugged.

“…I’ll go steal one of Mycroft’s mattresses.” Sherlock smiled slightly before pushing off the bed and wandering down to his brother’s room.

Greg fell back on Sherlock’s bed and stared up at the ceiling. A patch of light lit up on the ceiling almost simultaneously with a buzz next to his head.

“Don’t do it Greg..” He muttered to himself, trying to keep his eye son the ceiling. Another buzz tickled at his ear. “Son of a bitch, Greg..” He muttered again, under his breath as he squeezed his eyes shut. A short moment of hesitation and Greg had Sherlock’s phone in his hand. “He’s gonna kill you, don’t do it…”

 

New Message(2) – John

 

“Don’t..don’t go through his messages again..”

 

New Message(3) – John

 

“Sherlock why does your social life have to be so intriguing?”

Sherlock’s door opened moments later with Mycroft dragging in a mattress.

“Why am I doing this?”

“Because you’re the elder. You do the heavy lifting.” Sherlock slipped in the room after Mycroft and gave a big smiled to tease him. Mycroft snarled and walked out.

“Uh..th-thank you, Mycroft.” Greg managed out awkwardly. “Isn’t he just..”

“Annoying? Conceded? Ignorant?”

“N-no..not at all..”

“Yes, I imagine you’d follow more along the lines of ‘genius, brilliant, charming, kind, so on and so on.”

“What? N-no, thats not what I…your bother is amazing. You’re too hard on him.”

“You would say that..” Sherlock mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing. Get off my bed.”

“…How’s John?” Greg asked, ignoring Sherlock’s request.

“How should I know?”  Sherlock glanced around his bed for his phone, and when he didn’t find it beside him, he looked up at Greg.

“I think your AI is becoming self-aware.” He said when he realized Sherlock knew he had his phone.

“He’s not-…give me my phone. And quit going through my messages.”

“Well it’s not my fault he texts you every minute of the day.” Greg held out the phone and Sherlock carefully plucked it from his hand.

“He doesn’t text me every minute..”

“Oh, right, when he’s not texting you, you’re texting him.”

“Don’t make me put a lock on this.”

“He texted you. Three times”

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah you do.” Greg smiled as he crawled onto the mattress on the floor and pulled out a book from under Sherlock’s bed.

 

(Fri. 10:05pm)

So..I’m like your ‘pick me up’?

(Fri. 10:06pm)

You’re welcome, I guess.

(Fri. 10:06pm)

What exactly am I distracting you from?

 

“I don’t think he knows what it means for Sherlock Holmes to be grateful.”

 

(Fri. 10:10pm)

_Right now, a conversation I really don’t want to be a part of._

 

A Sherlock pulled a knife from under his pillow and dropped it beside the mattress Greg was laying on. Greg froze with the book in his hands facing where the knife came from.

“You- you uh.. you aimed for that not to hit me, right?”

“If you plan on staying here long, I suggest you speak as little as possible.” Sherlock leaned over his bed to pull the knife out of the carpet when he noticed the book Greg was holding.

‘The Greatest of William Shakespeare.’

“Where did you get that?”

“It was under your bed.”

“Well, it was there for a reason.” Sherlock tried to grab the book but Greg pulled it away, causing Sherlock to nearly fall off the bed.

“It’s got a library stamp on it.”

“So?”

“So, you never check out a book.”

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably on the bed for a bit.

“Marva gave it to me. I plan on buying it when I get the money”

“Marva? Is that that pretty, dark haired librarian?”

Sherlock shrugged

“Sherlock this thing is £32.”

“Shakespeare isn’t cheap.”

Greg looked back at the book questionably.

“Are you sure it’s worth it?”

“Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, it’s just a bunch of mushy poems right?”

There was a long pause and Greg finally looked up to see Sherlock dumbfounded and completely appalled.

“How do I even know you?”

“A better question is; how have you not killed me yet?”

“Don’t think I haven’t tried..” He muttered.

Greg opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Sherlock smirked at the terrified face as he rolled back on the bed.

(Fri. 10:14pm)

Why not?

 

(Fri. 10:14pm)

_He questioned Shakespeare._

(Fri. 10:14pm)

You’re such a geek.

 

(Fri. 10:15pm)

_Is there something wrong with that?_

 

(Fri. 10:15pm)

No. the world wouldn’t get anywhere without you geeks :)

 

(Fri. 10:15pm)

_We aren’t doing the smiling thing._

(Fri. 10:16pm)

You know you like it ;)

 

(Fri. 10:16pm)

_Defiantly not that._

 

(Fri. 1016pm)

Oh, lighten up.

 

(Fri. 10:17pm)

_I’m too smart to ‘lighten up’._

 

(Fri. 10:17pm)

What does that mean?

(Fri. 10:18pm)

You aren’t upset that I called you a geek, are you?

(Fri. 10:20pm)

Sherlock being a geek isn’t an insult. It’s not a bad thing. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t smart. And I happen to know that you are brilliant

 

Sherlock stared at his phone for a moment. No one had ever given him praise before, or tried to cheer him up. He had only ever been insulted, and no one ever apologized for it. It was defiantly not something he was expecting. He smiled and with a shocking loss of words, put his phone down.

“Flirting with your boyfriend up there?”

“We aren’t _flirting_.”

“But you aren’t denying he’s your boyfriend.”

“…I don’t know him.”

“…Do you want him to be?”

“I’m 10, Greg. I don’t know what I want in life.”

“Is that just a complicated and arrogant ‘maybe’?”

“I don’t _know_ him Greg. Go to sleep or something.”

“Not while you’re awake.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I’ve known you long enough to know better.”

 

(Fri. 10:23pm)

_You don’t know anything about me._

 

(Fri. 10:23pm)

Then tell me.

 

(Fri. 10:24pm)

_It’s not a great story._

 

(Fri. 10:24pm)

I don’t care.

 

“When was the last time you had a decent night of sleep? Honestly?”

“...What’s today?”

“Friday, the...20..9th.”

“28th..27th…umm..”

“You haven’t, had you?”

“I sleep when I’m tired, and I haven’t been tired.”

“Come on, it’s not healthy. Just give me one night of sleep.”

“Why?”

“I worry about you.”

“You’ve been talking to Mycroft.”

“ _We_ worry about you.”

“Well stop.”

“Just one night Sherlock.”

After a long pause, Sherlock pulled his covers over him and flopped over in bed.

“Turn the light off.”

“Want me to tuck you in?” Greg teased after he switched off the light.

“Floor.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“No, a dog would be more obedient and much less pestering.”

After awhile of Sherlock starring at the wall with his mind racing, he thought Greg had fallen asleep, until he spoke again.

“Thanks..”

“Hmm?” Sherlock hummed, not able to form any coherent words after being silent for so long.

“Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Temporary.”

“Yeah, but, you didn’t have to. You could have sent me back home to wait for my mum. Or at least make me sleep in the living room. I know you’re lonely, Sherlock. I know you’re sad. You’re a good person, and I wish more people would see it.”

“…”

“I don’t just talk and hang around you because I’m ‘Mycroft’s little spy’. I do it because I want to. I’ve known you longer than I have your brother. I’m not going to report to him about everything you tell me. If I can tell you don’t want to tell me something, then I know you don’t want your brother to know, so I won’t tell him. I just don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me because you think I’ll run and tell Mycroft. Because I won’t. I hardly tell him anything.”

“…You want me to vent to you?”

“I’m saying you can if you need to.”

“What makes you-”

“I know you like to think you don’t have feelings, but I know you hurt. You don’t have to tell me, just don’t lie about it.”

“…”

“Goodnight.”

The room fell silent. Sherlock kept his eyes on the wall, trying to dismiss his frantic thoughts.

 

“Psst. Sherlock. Wake up.”

“I was never asleep.”

“Oh..did I wake you?”

“..I was never asleep.” Sherlock repeated himself with annoyance in his tone.

“You didn’t sleep? Why not? You promised.”

“It’s not like I didn’t try.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I did!” Sherlock finally pushed from the bed to glare down at Greg and catch a glance of the clock.  7:37am

“Lay down, close your eyes?”

“…I was lying down.”

“Why didn’t you close your eyes?”

“The wall was far more interesting.”

“Sherlock.”

“Lestrade.” Sherlock replied harshly.

“Oh come on, no need to result to last names.”

“I disagree completely.”

“Fine. If you aren’t going to sleep then at least go eat breakfast. Holmes.”

“Eat yourself.” Sherlock growled as he fell back under the covers. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had meant by it, but it was good enough to let Greg know how irritated he was. Sherlock picked up his mobile and was slightly surprised by the lack of messages. Only one.

 

(Fri. 11:23pm)

Good night Sherlock.

 

(Sat. 7:40am)

_John._

 

After a while Greg returned to Sherlock’s room to find him sitting on the bed with his laptop on top of his crossed legs. Although his hands where steadily on the keys, his attention seem to be fully focused on his mobile.

“Oi. Brought you some toast. Your mum insisted you eat something. I told her you would be stubborn, but she told me that if you refused then to just shove it at you.”

“No she didn’t.”

“Yeah you’re right, that last bit was Mycroft. Point is you need to eat something, even if I have to force it.”

“Not hungry.”

“You never are.”

Sherlock continued to stare expectantly as the phone, with his hands ready on his keyboard as if he were about to type something brilliant but had gotten completely lost in something else.

“..He’s probably sleeping. It’s a Saturday on spring break. What’s he got to wake up so early for?”

Sherlock caught himself thinking a very selfish thought as he snarled and finally returned to his laptop. _‘Me.’_ It wasn’t a conscious thought, it was just something that had intruded the back of his mind.

“Why wouldn’t someone wake up early? There’s more time to accomplish...everything.”

“Not everyone can be an early bird thriving to do something like you.” Greg placed the plate with the single piece of toast beside Sherlock’s bed.

“They should be.”

“The world doesn’t need any more Sherlock Holmes’; we can barely manage with one.”

“As if I could be cloned.”

“They’ve made clones before.”

“Requires DNA.”

“Hair. Spit, skin, blood, anything.”

“Requires a type of cloning machine.”

Greg stood silent, he couldn’t find a clever or accurate retort back and he was fairly certain that he had walked right into a conversation Sherlock had planned to the teeth just to make him stop talking.

Only a short moment later the phone lit up with a light buzz and Sherlock jolted to pick it up. He realized immediately what that had looked like and hoped Greg hadn’t seen it. Of course he had and was still standing silent, but now with a smirk.

“Oh be quiet it..startled me.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”

“One day I’m really going to slaughter you.”

“You say that a lot but you never do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I’m alive.”

“Are you sure you aren’t a clone?”

“Well I-”

“I’ve known you for an awfully long time, Greg.”

“Yeah but..”

“You think I haven’t got a few samples of your DNA?”

“That’s…uh…”

“Do you honestly think I couldn’t figure something out as simple as cloning?”

“…Cloning machine?”

Sherlock tilted his head slightly and gave Greg a look that he loves to give everyone. The “We-both-know-I’m-more-than-capable” look. Greg’s eyes circled the room before he let out a few nervous coughs and seeped out the room. Sherlock smirked. That got him out.

 

(Sat. 8:02am)

Good morning to you too, you nut bag. Seriously who wakes up at 7 on a Saturday?

 

(Sat. 8:05am)

_Who goes to sleep at 11:30 on a Friday?_

 

(Sat. 8:05am)

Touché.

 

Sherlock pushed the laptop off of him and propped up against his pillows with his knees in the air.

 

(Sat. 8:06am)

_Didn’t you want to know about my life?_

(Sat. 8:06am)

Thought you weren’t going to tell me. “Not a great story”

 

(Sat.8:08am)

_Well you asked so I assume the appropriate response is an answer._

(Sat. 8:09am)

No, Sherlock, it’s fine, really. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m not going to force you to tell me something you obviously don’t want to talk about.

 

(Sat. 8:09am)

_You can’t force me to do anything over a text._

 

(Sat. 8:09am)

I don’t think I could force you to do anything in person.

 

(Sat. 8:10am)

_No, I don’t think you could either. Persuade, maybe._

(Sat. 8:10am)

To do what?

 

(Sat. 8:10am)

_A person can be persuaded into doing or believing almost anything._

 

(Sat. 8:10am)

Are you trying to get me to make you do something?

 

(Sat. 8:11am)

_What would that accomplish? I’m just giving a little information on the gullibility of humans._

 

Sherlock looked up after the message was sent to see Mycroft leaning on the door frame.

“You told him he was a clone?”

“I did no such thing.”

“He’s asking me if you were killed, then cloned would the clone remember being killed.”

“Of course not, what a ridiculous question.”

“Why did you tell him he was a clone?”

“I didn’t. I simply implied that there was a possibility that he could be and that I may or may not have cloning technology.” Sherlock grinned. “I persuaded him.”

“Sherlock he won’t leave me alone.”

“Good. Make friends. I’m busy.”

Mycroft shifted his eyes to the laptop sitting on the bed. Microsoft word was opened, but there wasn’t a word typed up. Nothing but half a title “History of th” How incompetent. Sherlock ignored him and returned his attention to the small device vibrating in his hand.

 

(Sat. 8:12am)

There you go insulting your own race again.

 

(Sat. 8:12am)

_I will continue to do so until they all redeem themselves._

 

(Sat. 8:13am)

Humans have done some amazing things.

 

(Sat. 8:13am)

_Individually, yes. But the race as a whole have done more harm and redundancy than good accomplishments._

(Sat. 8:14am)

You’re just a ball of hate aren’t you.

 

(Sat. 8:14am)

_The term has been used to describe me, yes._

 

(Sat. 8:15am)

What hasn’t been used to describe you?

 

(Sat. 8:16am)

_Lots but none at all._

(Sat. 8:16am)

Ever been called an arrogant otter?

 

(Sat. 8:16am)

_I can honestly say I haven’t._

 

(Sat. 8:17am)

Well now you have. And that is what you will be from now on. My arrogant otter.

 

(Sat. 8:17am)

_I am not an otter John._

 

(Sat. 8:18am)

Sounds like something an otter would say

 

(Sat.8:19am)

_You are most definitely the strangest boy I’ve ever met_

 

(Sat. 8:19am)

But we haven’t met

 

(Sat. 8:20am)

_Might as well have_

 

(Sat. 8:20am)

:)


	5. First Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> omg two chapters in the same day after over a month of waiting??  
> thats..thats fair right? ^-^;

“I told you; I’m going to the library.” Sherlock repeated another time, he had lost count of how many times he had to remind the other boy.

“I don’t want to go to the library.”

“No one is making you come with me. Stay here with Mycroft. Or go home.”

Greg made a strange face before stomping to the door.

“You really don’t have to join me.”

“Are we going or not?”

They both walked out silently, which Sherlock broke immediately.

“Where is your father? Or even your mother for that matter.”

“I don’t know, I assumed they would call or something when someone came home and I wasn’t there.”

“..Do you want to look for him?”

“Us? What can we do? We aren’t even old enough to be in high school.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I can do plenty. I’m going to be a detective, and I’m going to be the best. I’m already fairly decent. If you’re going to talk over your dad’s job, you’re going to have to start somewhere.”

“..Let’s check on my mum first.”

“Right, we’ll take the shortcut past the library.”

“…I don’t live near the library.”

“You do now.”

When they entered the library, Greg continued to complain that he ‘didn’t like the library’. It was ‘too quiet’ or ‘smells like cinnamon and sawdust.’ But Sherlock wasn’t listening, he saw someone at the front desk that caught his eye.

“Watson?” his posture changed completely.

The boy turned his head and smiled.

“Holmes! What are you doing here?”

“It’s the library.” He tried to force back a grin, but he knew he was failing horribly at it.

“Yeah, that it is.” He laughed lightly. “I’m just uh-here to return this book.” He held up the book Sherlock checked out for him a few weeks ago. “You..you wouldn’t happen to have your card would you? It’s checked out under your name.”    

Sherlock took a moment to respond. He could have been zoned out, but that wasn’t like him. He stood silent with a small smile on his face for a few seconds.

“Right, of course.” He snapped out and handed John the card.

“Thanks.” He smiled and returned to the desk.

“Dude..” Greg looked over to Sherlock once John couldn’t hear them.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He laughed.

“Here’s your card.” John smiled and Sherlock smiled back.

“Yeah, well. Moving on? Things to do right?” Greg interrupted.

“Oh, what are you two doing?”

“Looking for a missing person.” Sherlock said proudly.

“He isn’t missing, he’s just..on a job..and hasn’t been home in a few days.”

“Who?”

“My dad. I’m sure It’s nothing. He’ll get a case and go missing for awhile. But this one insists something is wrong.” Greg pointed at Sherlock.

“Well what do you think is wrong?” John asked, looking more than interested.

“Well, I know someone is somewhere they don’t belong.”

Greg rolled his eyes while John’s beamed at Sherlock.

“Can I help?”

“I don’t see why not.” Answered Greg. “The more the merrier, right?”

Sherlock’s stance fumbled for a second, but he quickly recomposed himself.

“Right, we were going to check my mum first?”

Sherlock cleared his throat, “Right. Watson?” He gestured in front of them so Sherlock could glare at Greg without John seeing.

“Your first case together. How exciting.”

“I’m really going to kill you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Maybe if you stop being such a nuisance, I’ll do it in your sleep so you won’t feel it.”

“You’re going to have to be nicer.”

“Why?”

“You don’t make friends with a sour attitude.”

“Who-”

“Oi! Watson! I’ll lead, I know where I live. Hope you don’t, that’d be a bit creepy mate.”

“Right, sorry..” John stopped to let Greg pass and began walking again shortly behind Sherlock.

“…So.”

“Don’t do small talk..”

“Then don’t let it be small talk.” John looked up at Sherlock almost begging for a conversation. Sherlock looked down at John, intrigued. “Is this what you want to do? Be a detective, I mean.”

“Wasn’t my first choice. But I was told what I wanted to be was impossible, so I found other business.”

“Well if it’s what you wanted then it isn’t impossible. You just have to try.”

“You don’t even know what it was.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Sherlock looked at him curiously, and a bit irritated.

“It was childish..”

“If it makes you feel better, I wanted to be Ken until I was about 7.”

“…The Barbie?”

“The Barbie.” John laughed and Sherlock chuckled at the ground.

“I wanted to be a pirate.” He confessed finally.

“Ah, into the booty?”

Sherlock looked at john, confused. John turned away, slightly embarrassed.

“I guess I just though..it’s be nice to get away and be on my own. I thought that maybe adventure was the most amazing thing..and the world was so vast and beautiful that I wanted to see all of it.”

“Sounds like more than a guess.”

“It was a child’s dream.”

“It’s a beautiful dream.”

Sherlock smiled childishly at the ground before gaining a smirk and looked back at John.

“Are you telling me to be a pirate?”

“I’m just saying that you should be what you want and not what others want you to be.”

Sherlock could easily see that the advice was aimed more at Watson himself than anything.

The two stopped at a small building and watched Greg turn around awkwardly.

“I uh..don’t have a key..”

“Here.” Sherlock dug into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key.

“You..have a key to my house?”

“Yes, I had it made weeks back.”

“..Why?”

“Because I knew at some point you would lose yours or do something stupid and I would have to take you home.”

“That’s a bit creepy..”

“That’s thinking ahead.”

Greg took the key and opened the door for them all to flood inside.

“Greg?” An elder woman’s voice called from another room.

“Mum? You’re home?”

“Of course I’m home, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting? You didn’t..look for me?”

“Look for you? I knew exactly where you were. Mrs. Holmes phoned days back saying you were sleeping there and everything was fine.”

“Oh…where’s Dad?”

“Sent a note just yesterday. He’ll be here in no time.”

Greg turned to Sherlock with a slight scowl.

“You said he was in trouble.”

Sherlock shook his head.

“I only offered to look for him and said someone was not where they belonged.”

“…You meant me.”

“You snore.”

“What does it matter to you? You don’t sleep.”

“Disrupts my thinking.”

“Awww,” Greg’s mother tuned in. “Were you boys playing detective again?”

“It’s not playing.” Huffed Sherlock.

“How cute. Detective Lestrade and Holmes. Just like your father.”

“I’d rather not.”

They were both silent before John finally added in.

“Right, well, if all is fine, I should be going.”

“Right.” Agreed Sherlock.

“Wait!” Greg grabbed the end of Sherlock’s sleeve and waited for John to be a safe distance away. “Where’d you get with Watson?”

“I learned he’s a doll and I like booty.” He smiled deviously before realizing himself from Greg’s grip and continued out the door.

“Oi! Holmes! You coming?”

“Where to Watson?”

“Don’t know, hoping you would lead.”

“Don’t you want to go home?”

“Why would I want to do that?” they both smiled as the found their way to the park.

“Is this really what you want to do?” John asked when they were both sat on the park bench and  watched strangers pass by.

“Hmm?”

“Be a detective.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No-no..it’s just..I don’t know, isn’t it hard?”

Sherlock glanced at John from the corner of his eye, then nodded towards a woman in a purple jacket.

“That woman there. She and her significant other recently separated. You can tell from the way she holds her right hand, she’s used to it being in theirs, them being gone, she’s having trouble holding it naturally. She’s also lacking sleep, judging by her eyes and stance. Probably looking for a new job. She quit hers recently. Look at the way she walks around. She isn’t used to being out at this time of day and doesn’t know how else to spend her time. Her life is crumbling apart and she’s searching London to pass the time.”

“That was..depressingly amazing..how do I know you aren’t just making it up?”

“Do you think I made it up?”

“I’d believe you more if you did it again.”

“Alright. Pick someone. Anyone, doesn’t matter.”

“Me.”

Sherlock looked at him, a bit surprised

“Do me. Deduce me, tell me about my life.”

“Umm, well..” Sherlock repositioned himself on the bench to look directly at John. “ judging from your nails, I could tell you that you bite them often. Although not from nerves, they would be more jagged. They’re only a lop-sided here and there, so you only bite them when in deep thought. Your eyes are slightly shot, so you  haven’t been able to sleep properly. Something on your mind, family? School? Both? Probably some pretty little girl that you think you’re in love with but you don’t know what that means yet. Also you knew that book was checked out with my card so you couldn’t return the book without the card. So you had planned on meeting me there. You spilled your aunts perfume, which is why you’re wearing a jacket on a warm day, in hopes no one will notice you smell like ‘lavender mist’. Your hair’s a mess, and you’re having difficulty keeping a pile of secrets to yourself..”

They both sat silent, Sherlock raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response. John slowly rose his hand to his head and patted his hair.

“My hair isn’t a mess..”

Sherlock grinned.

“What’s that for?”

“Well I knew if I threw in something completely redundant you would either pick that out, leaving the others as truth or pick out something else and show your insecurities, or that you’re just a liar.”

“…So my hair isn’t a mess?”

“No you just smell like a fairy.”

“A fairy with great hair.” John grinned and Sherlock mirrored.

 


End file.
